Catch Me If I Fall
by LadyWallace
Summary: Dean's suffering from the effects of the Mark and it seems that no matter what he does, he still can't stop it from overcoming him. Sometimes Sam and Cas wonder if they'll be able to pull him back from the ledge he's standing on before he loses himself entirely. Post 10x10 No slash


**Just a Season 10 sort of filler story I guess. Just an idea I had that I decided to write up. Hope you all enjoy! I am constantly worried about this season's finale... This is set after 10x10**

Catch Me If I Fall

A Supernatural Fanfic

Maybe it was because Sam wanted to believe he had his brother completely back that he ignored a lot of things about Dean. Sure, he was keeping an eye on him, making sure he didn't go postal, but in doing do, he missed a lot of little things in the process. Well, it was a little hard to miss Dean's new odd habits which he termed 'coping mechanisms' most shocking of all being the all of a sudden health-food kick, which he tried to hide at first but Sam saw anyway, because even he didn't eat kale.

But it was harder to ignore some of the other things; like the fact that Dean chained himself to his bed at night.

He found this out by accident one night when he went to wake his brother after getting a call from Cas about a hunt and there was Dean's right wrist resting on a pillow, chained to the headboard. He knew Dean had never wanted him to find out, and there were the poor attempts to hide the shackle around his wrist, but Sam had already seen it. He didn't say anything, just met Dean's eyes for a long time. Why bother? It would just start another argument that he just didn't have the energy for, and he knew well enough why Dean did it. He was afraid of going off the reservation again; running away and going on an uncontrollable killing spree. Neither of them were really sure how stable he actually was. The other reason, which Sam could hardly even consider in his thoughts was that Dean feared he was a danger to Sam. Sure, as a demon he had chased him through the bunker with a hammer, but he wasn't a demon any more and he had control of himself. Right?

Not right, and Sam knew it. He just…well, he just hoped that his brother would somehow get back to normal again; that the Mark would somehow lose its potency or something. It was a stupid, hollow hope, but it was all he had and he wasn't going to let go of it yet. There had been so many times that Dean had gone to hell and back (sometimes literally) for Sam and if he could at all give a little of that back, then he would be damned before he failed his big brother.

"I don't think egg whites and kale are actually going to keep you from going berserk," Sam told him one day, as he tired of watching Dean choke down the terrible food for breakfast. The least he could do was not complain about it as if it had been Sam's fault. Even Cas had turned up his nose at whatever vomit-inducing green drink Dean had made the day before that had nearly sent the elder Winchester to the toilet after one mouthful.

"Look man, I'm just trying all my options," Dean told him, slamming a fork down. "But hell, I could kill for a hamburger."

"Yeah, exactly why it's not working," Sam told him blandly. "Dude, this is probably worse; you're starving yourself, and you're normally grumpy on an empty stomach. The Mark might make you go Rambo on MacDonalds if you deprive yourself of red meat for too much longer."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm running out of options here, Sam," Dean growled.

"I know, Dean, I know," Sam sighed, closing the book he had been reading. "Just, please, we haven't found everything yet, and Cas is still looking—" he broke off as Dean leapt to his feet and threw his plate and the rest of his breakfast to the floor with a smash.

"He's not gonna find anything! The only person who might know what to do is Cain, or Metatron, and the first is somewhere in the wind, and the other I blew our chance with because I couldn't contain my anger. So do you not see why I'm the main problem here?"

"I know, Dean, trust me, I know!" Sam cried in exasperation. "We're doing all we can."

"Then let's try harder," Dean grunted. "Because I swear, Sam, sometimes I just get so angry, I could tear into the next person I see, and you know who that would be. I can't have that on my hands." He walked out of the room and Sam hung his head wearily as he heard several doors slam further in the bunker. He slowly knelt to clean up the mess Dean had made, and dropped it all again when Castiel appeared right in front of him.

"Geez, Cas," he gasped.

"Sorry," the angel apologized, frowning. "What happened?"

Sam stood with the broken plate, sighing. "Dean's just…he's having a rough time. I don't know what to do about him anymore. I used to think that hunting, having something to do was the best thing, but now he doesn't seem to want to leave the bunker because he's afraid of what he might do. He needs help, Cas, there's no other way around it. We just have to find a way to get rid of the Mark."

Castiel nodded. "I know, Sam. Believe me, I have tried everything, I have thought of every possible scenario. But the truth is that I am running out of places to look. And I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. But I have possibly found a lead on Cain. That's what I came to tell you."

"Really?" Sam asked, trying not to get too hopeful.

Castiel hesitated. "A possible lead. He is good at hiding himself. Of course, he was better when he wasn't dropping bodies. I'm going to go look into it, but I wanted to see how Dean was first."

"He's not better," Sam said grimly. "And I don't think he's worse exactly either, but it's wearing on him, and with the added stress…I'm afraid he'll snap and I think he is too."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. We will continue to do everything we can. We're not going to give up on your brother, Sam."

Sam forced a grim smile. "Yeah, I know. It just seems sometimes like nothing leads anywhere."

"Is there anything I can do in the meantime?" Castiel asked kindly, seeing how tired the younger Winchester was.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think there's much either of us can do for Dean right now. Just keep looking for Cain. He's the best option we have right now."

"Of course," Castiel nodded. "Let me know if anything happens or if Dean gets worse."

The angel disappeared in a flap of wings and Sam suddenly felt very much alone. He sighed heavily and continued to clean Dean's mess before he went back to the endless research that never seemed to bring up anything.

He wasn't sure where Dean was and was reluctant to disturb him whatever he was doing, but he hadn't eaten anything that day and Sam decided to make him a grilled cheese for dinner, hoping to at least entice him to eat something that wasn't egg whites and kale. That was almost too sad for Sam to handle. The fact that Dean was so desperate he would even give up his normal eating habits.

He found Dean asleep on top of his bed—he had noticed with a pang that Dean was once again sleeping on top of the bed, usually more or less fully dressed, like he had when he came back from hell. He didn't have the shackle on this time, but there was a half empty bottle of whisky on the bedside table and their dad's journal opened on the bed beside him. He twitched slightly but didn't seem to be in a full nightmare yet. Sam breathed out slowly and set the sandwich on the bedside table and pulled a blanket over Dean before he carefully unlaced his boots. He hoped that Dean could get some rest even though he knew how futile that would be. Rest for Dean, for both of them, only brought nightmares. It was a merciless circle of misery that had patterned their lives for years. You'd think they would have gotten used to it by now.

Dean shifted slightly, but seemed to settle a little more into the pillows with a quiet sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around him. Sam prayed he would sleep peacefully if only for a little while.

Leaving the light on and the door ajar, Sam left to go say hello to another sleepless night in the library.

* * *

 _He woke with a start_ the next morning to a cup of coffee being _thunked_ down onto the table next to his head. Sam pulled himself upright with a moan and looked up blearily at Dean.

"Thought you could use this. Does your bed even know your name anymore?" the elder Winchester asked nonchalantly enough, but there was the customary worry behind his words. Sam groaned again and scrubbed at his sticky eyes.

"Just doing a little research."

"You need to get a good night's sleep, Sam," Dean told him, a bit of his old self coming back.

"I do when I can," Sam replied and Dean could say nothing to that.

"So what are you planning on today?" Dean asked him as he sat down to a bowl of 'healthy' cereal. The kind with lots of fiber that was hard to chew and you found in your teeth for the rest of the day.

Sam shook his head. "Just more research. What about you?"

"Thought I'd go out. I'll go on a supply run, we're running low on milk and a few other things," Dean told him.

Sam was silent for a few seconds then finally asked quietly, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Dean got instantly angry, as he had expected. "Why not? I think I'll be fine grocery shopping, Sam. I just need to get out, man, I've been cooped up in here for over a week now, I'm starting to go crazy."

Sam didn't mention that it had been Dean who had all but holed himself up, but he decided that maybe getting out would actually help his brother unwind a little. "You want me to go with you?"

"I don't need a freaking babysitter," Dean said with more heat than he had meant. "Can you just leave me alone and stop watching me like I'm going to Hulk out at any given moment?"

Sam huffed through his nose, deciding it best not to reply. _I'm worried_ he wanted to say, which would only make Dean lash out more. How dare Sam worry about him, _he_ was the big brother, it was _his_ job to worry. Even _I'm here for you_ would just be met with derision. Dean didn't want to think anyone was there for him. He was too proud and too damn stubborn for his own good. _I need you to be okay_ was way out of the picture. Instead he just looked up and said, "Grab some more orange juice too. I finished it this morning."

Dean nodded, pretending to miss the warring emotions on his little brother's face, but Sam knew better than to think he had. Dean grabbed his keys and jacket and headed out. Sam waited for the creak of the front door closing before he pulled out his phone and quickly called Cas.

"Hey, Cas; Dean's gone out for a bit, if you're free, I could use a hand at researching."

A little while later, Castiel and the younger Winchester were both sitting at the table, books spread out, notebooks and papers strewn everywhere as they looked and looked for anything about the Mark or anything possibly related to it that could help them find out what they needed to look for. Sam's eyes were burning, perpetually strained from all the work he had been doing and the lack of sleep. He still didn't stop when the words on the pages began to swim.

Castiel finally closed a heavy book tiredly. "Sam. I don't know if we'll find anything here at all. The Mark is so old, even most of these books talk about it like myth."

"We'll find something, Cas, keep looking," Sam told him in determination.

Castiel opened his mouth, then closed it again, deciding against saying what he had on his mind. Instead he picked up another book and started the long process over again.

Dean came back later with full bags and both in one piece and lacking blood on his clothing, which made Sam slightly relieved, even though he would never voice those feelings to anyone. The elder Winchester glanced suspiciously at the table full of books and the addition of the angel.

"Hey, Cas, you and Sam start a book club or something?"

"Hello, Dean," Cas said offering a small smile. "You are looking well."

"As opposed to what?" Dean demanded, slamming the bags down on the table. Both Sam and Castiel winced and the angel cast a small apologetic glance toward the younger brother.

"He's just glad to see you getting out again, that's all," Sam told his brother quietly as he stood up. "Here, I'll help you put the groceries away."

"I got it," Dean insisted, snatching the bags and storming off to the kitchen. "I got stuff for sandwiches if you want something for lunch."

Sam cast a glance toward Cas who got up and followed the younger Winchester into the kitchen.

Sam helped put stuff away anyway, and Dean didn't say anything. He looked through the bags and hesitantly asked, "Did you get orange juice?"

Dean slammed a cupboard with a curse. "Knew I forgot something."

"It's okay," Sam assured him quickly, wishing he hadn't spoken up. "I'll pick some up tomorrow."

"May as well do it now," Dean grunted. "Anything else I forget?"

"Dean, really, it's alright, it's not important."

"No, you're right," Dean said. "You know what else isn't important? All those books out there that have absolutely nothing of value to us about my condition."

"Dean, you don't know that," Sam tried.

"Yeah, I do," Dean shouted. "You know why? Because it's never easy for us, we never catch a break, it's always one thing after another, and this was my own stupid decision and I'm paying for it, so I don't really have the right to want to fix it, because in the end, it's probably not going to be worth the price."

"Don't say that," Sam told him shaking his head. "I'm not going to give up that easy, we're going to find a way. We always do."

"At what cost?" Dean cried, slamming a fist down on the counter, trembling in pent up rage. "It always ends up costing one of us our lives, and I'm done with that. No more. I'll just find a way to cope with it."

"And how is that going?" Sam said, unable to help it. He was getting angry too, it always made him angry when Dean wanted to give up after all the times he had told Sam not to. He never could understand why the same rule wasn't allowed to apply to the elder Winchester.

Dean snarled at his brother. "Don't bait me," he gritted out, the anger still visible in his body.

"Dean," Castiel cautioned quietly.

Dean ignored him and pushed out of the kitchen, shoving the angel to one side. "I'm done talking, Sam. You can do what you want, but know that I really don't want to be a part of it. Not if it's going to end like everything else, it just ain't worth it."

"It's worth it to me, Dean!" Sam shouted after him. "After everything you've done for me, why won't you let me help you?" He gestured to the books on the table. "We haven't found something yet, I know, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything there. Please just don't give up hope yet. That's all I ask."

Dean laughed derisively. "That's a tall order I'm just not gonna fill this time, Sammy."

"Dean, please," Sam tried.

"Shut up!" Dean screamed, swiping an arm across the table and sending several of the books to the floor, papers fluttering around. He grabbed another book and was about the rip the pages out of it, when Sam ran forward, gripping his wrist.

"Dean, don't, this is childish, just calm do—"

Dean's fist slammed into his face and hands gripped the front of his shirt as Dean lifted him bodily and threw him over the table. Sam slid across the top, taking out a lamp and several more books and a chair on his way down. He lay for a moment in shock, the whole left side of his face numb and his body trying to register what had happened.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted.

Dean stood still, staring at Sam's crumpled form as Castiel hurried to see if the younger Winchester was alright, watching his other friend with shock on his face—more emotion than the angel usually showed. Dean was frozen, heart pounding. He couldn't believe what he had done. This is what he had been afraid of all along.

Sam groaned as Cas helped him up, and Dean was so disgusted with himself, that he couldn't even look at what he had done. He turned and hurried out of the room.

"Dean!" Cas called.

"Dean stop!" Sam added, but his brother kept going until the front door slammed and Dean tore off to destination unknown in the Impala.

Castiel helped Sam sit in a chair, and he lowered his head into his hands immediately.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Cas asked softly, a hand on the younger brother's shoulder.

Sam winced, feeling bruises starting to form on his face and shoulder and ribs from the fall. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

Castiel fetched him some ice for his face, his cheek had split and started to bleed slightly. Sam slumped in the chair as he pressed it to his face, sighing heavily.

"We need to go after him, Cas. Who knows what sort of trouble he will get up to in his state of mind." He didn't voice what else he was thinking. That if was getting worse, how long would it be before he snapped completely. He never wanted to think of his brother as a monster. It was different when he was actually a demon, when he really wasn't himself, but this…this was almost worse because he was Dean, but he was suffering from a darkness that would consume most men. And if Dean Winchester was anything, it was stubborn, but there was still only so far a single man could go suffering like that before he snapped and Sam feared that snapping point was all too close and he was determined to pull his brother back from the ledge before it was too late to grab him.

"Sam," Castiel said quietly. "If Dean kills again…"

"I know, Cas, I know," Sam cried out, wincing as his head ached. "I know. But we're not going to let that happen. I _can't_ let that happen again, can't let him have that on his head. He's not okay, Cas, and he won't let me do anything to help him."

Castiel sighed softly. "We will find a way to cure Dean, Sam. No matter how long it takes. But you're right, we should go after him before he does something he will regret. I'll drive."

Sam nodded and followed Castiel outside and they drove off, hoping to find Dean hadn't gone too far.

* * *

 _Dean drove as fast as_ possible to the nearest bar in town. He didn't really think of the destination, that's just where he ended up as if it were instinct. He was just running, looking for some relief to the feeling of his knuckles slamming into his brother's face; the thought of how far he might have gone if he hadn't been so horrified after that first assault. He was so disgusted with himself that he had to pull over half way there and vomit on the side of the road. His hands trembled as he continued on his way, and barely stopped to turn the engine off before he made his way into the bar and ordered a shot of whisky.

Several more in and the bar tender was watching him wearily, wondering when he should cut him off. Dean felt the warm fuzziness of the liquor wash over him, but didn't want to stop until he was unconscious. Nothing could really dull what he was feeling, he just needed to get rid of it all together.

Finally, though, the bar tender told him he couldn't have any more and that he should leave. Dean wanted to argue, slam the bottle onto the man's face, but he reined in his anger this time. Why couldn't he have done that with Sam? Why with this stranger and not his baby brother? That thought made him angrier but he still held onto himself and headed to the door, swaying slightly but not enough. He wasn't sure what he would do. He didn't want to go back to the bunker yet. He couldn't face Sam and Cas quite yet, especially dreading seeing the bruises on Sam's face that would match the ones on his knuckles.

Instead, he made a stop at the liquor store and got more whisky to drown himself with. He was on his way back to the Impala when he found himself being tailed. He led them past his car and further down the street to a deserted alley where no one would see. There, he turned to face them and saw there were five. Desperate looking men, and mean. Dean knew he could take them all, but he couldn't let himself do that again. Not like last time. The fear of losing himself was worse than the fear of losing a fight, so he tried to coax them as he shifted his grip on the bottle he held in his hand.

"You don't want to do this," he told them quietly, feeling the surge from the Mark as it thirsted for blood.

The men laughed and one stepped forward. "Well, you could give us your wallet if you don't want trouble, but otherwise—" He left it hanging but Dean only rolled his eyes at the man's attempt to make him afraid. He was many, many times more dangerous than they were. He wanted to show them that, the Mark wanted to show them that and he stepped forward without another word and took the one who had spoken out with the bottle he still held, shattering it against the man's skull and got a few punches in before he again thought of Sam lying crumpled on the floor where he had thrown him and he lost all will to fight. They overcame him and he was bourn to the ground in a flurry of fists and feet.

Everything hurt and he was only semi-conscious as they rifled through his pockets, laughing as they found his wallet, which had ample money from his pool hustling a few nights ago. A boot thudded into his ribs again before they went on their way, spitting on him in disgust. Dean lay there in his blood and the filth of the street and wished he could die, because he didn't care to live any more but he didn't really have a choice.

* * *

 _Sam and Cas didn't take long_ to find Dean, or rather, the Impala. Sam knew he would be at a bar or the liquor store and they found him on the second hunch. Sam got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw the car empty after confirming that Dean had already been to and left the store.

"Where do you think he went?" Castiel asked.

"Not far if the car is still here," Sam said, sounding more confident than he felt. He knew Dean loved the car too much to abandon it, but he also wasn't sure what state of mind his brother was in now.

"Let's check around the store," Castiel suggested. "He's possibly drunk and wandered off."

It didn't take them long to find Dean and Sam broke into a run as soon as he saw the crumpled figure lying in the filthy back alley. He knelt, disregarding the glass that bit into his knees as the smell of blood and liquor assailed his senses.

"Dean!" he cried as he turned his brother gently onto his back, shifting him so he was lying across his knees to keep as much of him off the ground as possible. Castiel crouched beside him and touched Dean's bloody cheek gently.

"He is injured. It looks like a mugging," the angel said quietly, wishing he had the strength to heal his friend, but with his fading, stolen grace, he wouldn't be able to heal Dean completely and if he tried anything, he couldn't even help Sam get Dean back to the car.

Sam sighed heavily. "We need to get him back to the bunker."

Together, they carried the unconscious hunter back to the cars and Sam loaded him into the back of the Impala, grateful that the muggers hadn't taken Dean's keys.

The elder Winchester was still unconscious when they got back to the bunker, and Sam and Cas laid him out on his bed, stripping him to see the extent of his injuries. There were a lot of bruises and two cracked ribs and Dean's nose was broken and his lip was split so badly he needed stitches. Seeing the extent of the beating made Sam angry beyond belief. He knew why Dean had let them beat him to hell and it hurt him to think that Dean would willingly let himself be half kicked to death to prove he wasn't a killer. He had to turn aside to quickly scrub away a tear that had slid down his cheek. He could not physically stand to see his brother suffering like he had been since he had changed him back. Sometimes, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to leave him as a demon, his terrorizing aside. At least he hadn't suffered from his scruples and everything else that made Dean Winchester the tortured martyr that he was. Sam needed to fix this, because he didn't know how much longer he would be able to watch his brother suffer.

"Sam?" Castiel asked quietly and Sam shook himself, turning back to the angel who had healed some of Dean's worse injuries at least partly. "Are you alright?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "No, Cas. I don't think I can be until we find a way to fix Dean. But I need to take care of my brother right now, so I have to put on the best face that I can if that's what it takes."

The angel looked upon his two best friends with the deepest pain and sympathy. He hated seeing them suffer so much, knew that if anyone deserved a break it was these two, and also knew that they would likely truly never get a real break, not if they chose the same paths they always did. Sometimes he worried they wouldn't make it through even though they always seemed to surprise him. But this time…this time Castiel really did worry that it was not going to end well.

Sam worked on washing the blood from Dean's skin and put stitches in the couple places they were needed before he dressed him in clean clothes and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. It worried Sam that Dean hadn't woken yet and Castiel seemed to see what he was thinking.

"He's experiencing a bit of shock. It's probably best to let him sleep for the moment," the angel told him gently. "But stay with him, Sam. I don't think he should be alone right now."

"Do you think I'll just make it worse?" Sam asked, his throat tight.

Castiel shook his head. "Dean needs to see that you are not mad at him. He needs you here now more than ever. But I will stay if you need help."

Sam nodded and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. Castiel watched the brothers silently for a few moments before he left them alone and went back out to the research room to pour over some more of the books.

Sam watched every breath his brother took for hours until late during the night, Dean finally stirred, groaning deep in his throat, and jerked slightly before his breath caught as the movement caused him pain. Sam started out of his half asleep state and touched Dean gently on the forearm.

"Dean, hey, it's okay. You're safe," he assured his brother.

Dean started from his touch, flinching away from him. Sam tried not to feel hurt at that, knowing Dean was still likely in shock.

"Dean?" Sam called gently.

Dean finally opened his eyes, at least the one that wasn't swollen shut, and stared up at his little brother. "S-Sam?" he rasped.

Sam offered him a smile. "Yeah, Dean, it's me. You're good."

Dean suddenly remembered everything that had happened, why he was in so much pain both physically and mentally. There were bruises on Sam's face, made by him, and he had to close his eyes so he couldn't see them anymore, swallowing hard and turning his head away from his brother.

Sam's heart sunk as he watched Dean and reached out to touch his shoulder, feeling his brother trembling. "Dean, hey, it's all right. I know you didn't mean it."

Dean lashed out at him, shoving his hand away. "It's not all right, Sam!" he cried hoarsely. "None of this is all right. You might not be hurt bad, but do you think that hurts me any less? I just hit you for no reason, what do you think will happen next time?"

"Nothing," Sam assured him. "I promise, Dean, you're going to get better. You'll be fine."

"I'm only getting worse, Sammy. I-I can't…" he trailed off as his breath hitched. A tear leaked from his good eye and he turned his head away again. "You should just put me down now before it's too late."

Sam set his jaw determinedly. "I'm not going to let that happen. Dean, you've come so far, I'm not going to let you give up now. We will find a cure, but I don't want you to think there's no hope. Please, for me, don't give up hope yet. You didn't have to get yourself pounded tonight to prove that you're not a cold-blooded killer, because you're not. You don't have to do this alone. You know I'm here for you every step of the way and I'm not going to leave you, and I'm not going to give up until this is over." He angrily wiped a tear from his own cheek. "You're my brother, Dean. I'm not going to give up on you."

Dean was silent for a long time before he finally turned back around to face his brother. He looked at him a long time before he carefully reached out and touched the bruises on his cheek. Sam caught his hand firmly and put it back to the bed. "Sleep, Dean. You need to get some rest."

Dean shook his head.

"Let me get you some pain killers first," Sam said and stood up with a sigh, crossing to the bathroom to grab the Tylenol. When he came back, he saw Dean struggling to attach the manacle to his wrist again. For some reason this just wasn't going to sit well with Sam. He rushed forward and grabbed Dean's wrist, pulling it down to his side.

"No, Dean, don't," he said quietly.

"Sam, please. I can't hurt you again," Dean almost pleaded.

"You're not going to." Sam sat on the side of his bed and wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist. "I'll stay with you tonight. I promise I won't let anything happen. You're safe. You're not going anywhere."

Dean gave a shuddering sigh and then finally, turned his hand over shakily, palm open in invitation. Sam slid his hand further down to grip his brother's and felt Dean's fingers tighten around his.

Sam stayed like that for a long time as he watched Dean fall asleep, and actually sleep without nightmares for once. He knew they were going to find a way to fix him. They had to. Finally, still holding onto Dean tightly, Sam leaned his head back against the headboard and allowed himself to sleep for the first time in days. Who knew the next time he would get a chance?

* * *

 **Hope you all liked it, sorry it wasn't more comforty and mostly just hurt and angst.**

 **I'm currently co-writing a story with AnastaziaDanielle called "Not Right Now". If you like Dean whump and brother angst, check it out. It's posted on her profile and we'd love to hear what you think of it :)**


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